


Stealthily Oblivious

by ObsidianRomance



Series: Drunk!Dean 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Dirty Talk, Drunk Dean, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Flirting, Jealous Sam, M/M, PWP, Porn, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform, public fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean scout out a bar on the hunt for a which who has been causing trouble. Dean drinks a little too much and gets needy in ways that only Sam can handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealthily Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I do not own these characters. I am just using them for fun.  
>  **Beta** : My hetero-lifemate [Demondetox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/demondetox/pseuds/demondetox). Thank you for "suffering" through betaing this and putting your sexual frustration at risk.  
>  **Author’s Note:** I am snowed in! It is time for my snowed in drunk!Dean challenge. It is all [kjanddean](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kjanddean)'s fault because she provided me with the prompt. I hope you like it! Dean is not very good at being quiet when Sam's got his hands on him.

Of all places they had to hunker down at in the name of a case, Sam thinks this one isn’t so bad.

They’re looking for a witch who they’ve gotten word about. Apparently, she’s been having a little too much fun with hex bags and torturing people throughout the town. That doesn’t sit well with Sam or Dean and as soon as they got wind of the case, they were both committed to seeing it through.

It’s a perk that their snooping and questioning has given them the name of a bar the woman, Minnie, is known to frequent.

The bar is _nice_.

Really nice.

It’s got clean _everything_ and the list of top shelf liquors is impressive. More impressive is the menu of 250 whiskeys, scotches and bourbons.

Dean jumps on the bandwagon immediately. They’ve got pockets full of fraudulent credit cards that they’re burning after this weekend, giving Dean the confidence to order a neat whiskey without giving it a second thought.

Sam gets one too, just to keep up appearances. It would look awkward for two men to sit at the bar without anything in front of them. Sipping the whiskey reminds Sam how much he missed decent stuff and he sighs happily.

Dean, however, has already downed his drink and is ordering another one.

“Dean…” Sam warns, low and under his breath.

“What? Lighten up, Sammy. It’s good shit and I’m tired of convenience store beer runs. _Relax_.” Dean flashes a smile at his brother and winks at the bartender who seems taken with Dean already. He clinks his new glass against Sam’s and takes a sip, pacing himself this time.

“I’m just saying, Dean…we’re supposed to be working here.” Sam snorts and takes a spit of his whiskey, mind getting hung up on the whole idea of it being bad luck not to have a drink when someone clinks your glass.

“Who says we can’t mix business with pleasure every now and then?”

“We kind of always do that.”

That gets Dean laughing. He knows it’s true. They don’t exactly _hate_ what they do and more often than not, they fall into bed together. There is a lot of pleasure in their lives. He smiles around the edge of his glass and lets some of the liquor slip between his parted lips. “Do we even know what this chick looks like?”

Sam shrugs. “Kind of. I mean…30 years old, blonde hair, just under five feet. Supposed to have a rose tattoo on her neck.”

“Rose tattoo. Got it.” Dean makes a show of scanning the bar. “No tattooed munchkins around yet.” He kicks back the rest of his whiskey and lets the glass clink to the bar. It gets the bartender’s attention and she twirls to face him with a smile. “‘Nother one, sweetheart. Double.”

“No problem.” She pours the drink and then rests her elbows on the bar top, pressing her breasts together and enhancing her cleavage. In an obvious flirtatious manner, she slides the glass across the bar towards Dean and smirks. “Here you go. On the house.”

Dean shoots Sam a quick amused look and then faces the bartended again. “Thanks…” he pauses in wait of a name.

“Jenny.”

“Thanks, Jenny.” He gives her a blinding smile and raises his glass to her. “Maybe you could get another one for my…partner…over here.”

“I’m not even done with one!” Sam balks.

Remedying that issue, Dean finishes the half glass of whiskey for Sam. “There. Now you are.”

Jenny pours another glass but slides it towards Dean, completely ignoring Sam. She sticks her chest out more and when she catches Dean looking, she gives a satisfied smirk.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Someone here,” he makes an eye roll towards Sam, “doesn’t know how to loosen up sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re plenty loose for both of us right now,” Sam says with an elbow to Dean’s ribs. He’s not usually miffed by the attention Dean gets. He’s used to it and sometimes he gets annoyed enough to fight back and play dirty. He can flirt with the best of them when he’s in the mood. Only, he’s usually not in the mood. He’s got Dean and it seems silly to waste his energy on things that won’t come to fruition. “Besides..working…remember?”

Unexpectedly, Dean spits some of his whiskey back into the glass at the mention of Sam implying he’s loose. Coughing on the liquid, he scowls at Sam. “Oh, really? Considering this morning, I’d say you shouldn’t be talking.” He smirks, remembering the stellar blow job he’d given Sam as a wakeup call and how he skyrocketed his brother into orgasm by adding skilled fingers up Sam’s anus to the mix.

Jenny’s not sure what is going on because they’re talking in hushed whispers but she swallows thickly at the way the two men lean towards each other and support enough of their weight on the bar to emphasize their muscled arms.

Sam laughs in Dean’s face and shakes his head. “Okay, you win. You big brat.” He takes a sip of his whiskey and gestures towards it with his free hand. “See, drinking. Happy now?”

“Very.” Dean smiles and this time it’s all for Sam. He doesn’t even wink at Jenny or share a smirk with her. Instead he clinks their glasses together. “It’s rude to force me into drinking alone.”

“No one’s forcing you…you know what? Forget it.” Sam sits back on the stool and watches more people filter into the bar. They are mostly couples, it’s evident by the way they are nestled next to one another. There are a handful of new women filtering about but none of them are Minnie. There isn’t much to do _but_ drink with Dean but he knows his limit. If he wants to be any good in actually handling the witch when she shows up, he’s got to pace himself.

Dean doesn’t seem to care. It’s that or he also knows Sam’s limit and trusts him enough to handle things. Sam supposes Dean deserves that. They both need some down time and it’s hard to find enough time for them to both share that moment. Taking turns with shouldering a heavier burden during some cases is the way they’ve found of making do.

The night drags on and things start to shift. Dean gets _friendlier_. His hands linger on Sam’s forearm which he’s now taking to touching every time he speaks, as if their connection is necessary to make a point. Their legs brush up against one another’s under the bar and neither man makes an effort to move them.

Dean is thoroughly liquored up and Sam’s not sure if it’s because he keeps ordering drinks or Jenny is trying to get him shit faced so that she can have her way with him.

In another world, if Sam and Dean hadn’t linked up the way they had, Jenny wouldn’t have to try hard at all. She’s a pretty girl and she looks like she knows how to handle herself. Dean seems to puff up with smugness every time Jenny’s eyes get stuck on him but Sam feels a weird twist of jealousy in his gut. It’s nothing to actually worry about because it’s not going to stay long, Sam knows that. But it’s there.

Dean catches Sam’s possessive stare and slips off the bar stool. “No witch bitch.” He licks his lips and makes a slow drag of his feet, like his boots are too heavy, situating himself between Sam’s parted thighs. With the height of the bar stools, he’s able to stand directly between Sam’s legs and look him in the eyes. “God you’re hot when you’re all broody and jealous.”

“And you’re a wreck when you’re drunk.” Sam says but he can’t keep the smile out of his eyes. Dean looks kind of sweet, which isn’t the adjective he usually applies to his brother at a time like this.

“Not drunk,” except he is and it’s obvious in the way Dean tries to deny it.

“ _Sure_ you’re not.” Sam shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he’s almost touching noses with Dean. It makes his heart speed up and suddenly Dean is kissing him. He tastes like whiskey and it makes Sam growl. He licks the liquor away, breaking through to the familiar taste of _Dean_ and _mine_ and _home_.

It has a clear effect on Dean. His knees weaken a bit so that he leans on Sam for support and lets a shaky moan out. Each kiss gets deeper and more intense, their lips moving against each other’s until it makes Dean swoon and let out another moan. This time it’s loud and lusty, carrying everything _dirty_ about their make out session along with it to the rest of the bar patron’s ears.

Sam gets his head about him. He groans but puts both hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushes him back into his own personal space. “Dean…”

“Sam.” Dean mocks.

It pains Sam to reject Dean, especially with those lust blown eyes and devious tongue sneaking out to swipe away evidence of their wet kiss. “We have work to do.”

“Yeah, _me._ ” Dean gives a grin and finishes the remains of his whiskey. “You’ve got _me_ to do.”

Sam swallows and wets his lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then you’re thinking with the wrong head.” Dean laughs at his cheap shot of a joke. “Come on Sammy, the witch isn’t going to show. But I’m here.” He steps closer and whispers in Sam’s ear, voice gravely with want. “Wanna fuck me, Sam? ‘Cause I want you to. Want it so bad. Want you to,” his words drop off as he groans and slams more of his weight into Sam. “Wanna get fucked, Sam. I’m jonesing for it.” Dean’s whole body feels like it’s on fire from the weightlessness of being buzzed and the arousal of envisioning Sam’s perfect dick working him open.

The words go straight to Sam’s groin and this time he _is_ thinking with the head Dean’s hoping for. “Fuck, Dean!” He shoots his brother a warning look and then glances around to see if anyone else is watching them. No one is. No one, except for Jenny. She’s looking at Dean like she’s ready to fuck the man silly and Sam’s not gonna let that happen. A _terrible_ , _bad_ , _naughty_ idea pops into his head and he cups Dean’s ass, pulling him closer. “Can’t fuck you, Dean, but I can finger you open. Get you ready for me so that once we’re done here, we don’t have to waste any time prepping you and I can sink right in. Think that will hold you off for a while?”

“Yea-yeah.” Dean swallows and goes in for a sloppy attack of Sam’s neck. He rolls his hips and ruts up against the barstool between Sam’s legs, whining pathetically. It’s his own fault that he drank too much to make him pliant and clingy. He’d normally be able to restrain himself but Sam looks so fucking fantastic and even though is brain knows they have work to do, his body wants to somehow crawl inside Sam’s and get as close as possible. “Mmmph!” He whines as he rubs his denim clad arousal against the bar and kisses his way to Sam’s lips.

“Shhh,” Sam whispers and presses a finger to his brother’s lips. “You gotta be quiet. Okay? We don’t want to get kicked out before Minnie shows up…so…we have to be secretive about that. You can be quiet while I get my fingers exactly where you want them, right?” Sam can’t help the blush from forming on his cheeks. He’s sober enough that the dirty words coming of his tongue make him feel awkward but Dean’s reaction makes it worth it.

Dean groans and shivers. He cups his arousal, bites his lip, and moans low and dirty. It’s visual jerk off material. Sam has to lick his lips again to remember that he needs to focus and stick to the deal he just made with Dean.

Sam spins Dean so that he’s belly up against the bar. He slips off the stool and brackets Dean’s body with his own. His hands make quick work of popping the button on his brother’s jeans and unzipping them just enough to keep them in place but give Sam room to shove his hand inside. Leaning his head closer to Dean’s ear, Sam speaks in a whisper. “I’m going to lube up my fingers, so keep quiet when you feel them between that ass,” he punctuates the word with a firm smack that makes Dean jolt against the bar.

“Emph!” Pressing both palms to the bar top, Dean steadies himself. He looks back over his shoulder and watches Sam. “Don’t worry, Sammy. I’mma keep an eye out for that bitch witch, witchy bitch…whatever…” He tries to focus and make a serious job of it but he couldn’t remember what Minnie looks like if his dick depended on it.

“Yeah, you do that.” Sam laughs and fishes a tube of lube out of his pocket. He’s glad now that it’s still in there from the night before. Snicking the cap open, he makes sure he’s out of sight when he coats two fingers. Dean’s being quiet so far but he’s wiggling his ass against Sam’s groin, making Sam reward him with a kiss to the nape of his neck. The moment he slides the two digits down the cleft of Dean’s ass, his brother moans. “Shh, quiet. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out like it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done. “Quiet, right. I’m quiet.” His chest hitches before he lets out a slow lungful of air.

“Don’t make any noise or I have to stop. Okay?” Sam circles a finger around Dean’s furled ring of muscle, moving slowly and testing his brother to see if he’ll be good on his word. Dean stiffens but doesn’t let out more than a whimper. His fingers explore with more determination, testing the rim and snagging on it enough to stretch it open the slightest bit.

“Hmph!” Dean presses his lips closed in a tight line and swallows down a moan. “Sam…” He angles his hips in an effort to get Sam to do something more than tease him.”

Sam didn’t think he would enjoy this so much but he is. He looks down for a quick second to see his hand disappearing into the back of Dean’s jeans and then surveys the bar like there isn’t anything mischievous happening in the space between him and Dean. He finally sinks a finger into Dean and smiles when he hears his brother take a shuddering breath and whisper a curse. He smiles wider when Dean keeps letting out curses every time Sam fucks his finger in and out, drawing out each pull so that he’s practically petting the newly slicked up insides.

Widening his stance, Dean’s eyes flutter. He starts shifting his hips so that he looks like he’s bucking them against something but he’s met with air. Whining, he forgets himself and lets out a loud groan. “Sam!”

“Shhh!” Sam grabs Dean’s jaw and holds him still enough to kiss him behind the ear. “I’mma take care of you.”

“Ugh..uhh…” Dean moans, quietly this time but all the more desperate. “More…please?” The feeling of Sam’s finger moving inside him is an improvement over ten minutes ago but it’s not enough. He wants to feel the stretch and burn of being filled up and he knows his little brother can do better than that.

Sam listens. He adds another finger and starts twisting them. People around the bar aren’t paying them any attention. That’s a good sign. Dean’s holding up his end of the bargain, barely, until Sam adds a third finger and Dean shouts.

“Fuck!’ Dean’s eyes go wide. Everyone stares at him and his eyes dart around trying to look for an excuse. “I uhhh…stubbed my toe.”

If anyone believes that they’re either an idiot or drunker than Dean. Dean looks flushed and his eyelids are hooded as pleasure courses through him. He gives a nonsensical little smile and then starts to let out a pant of air every time Sam’s fingers sink in down to the knuckle.

Sam keeps up his fingers motions. He twists his hand every now and then, alternating between doing that and scissoring his fingers. It’s become a game to Sam. Every time Dean makes a noise to draw attention, Sam pulls back and mutes his movements. Unfortunately for his brother, Dean is making _a lot_ of noise. He seems to be clueless about it though, because he looks over his shoulder every now and then and gives Sam a ‘see how awesome I am doing at being quiet’ look. Because it’s so damn adorable, Sam shoves his fingers in just the way Dean likes it and brushes up against Dean’s prostate, also in the teasing way Dean likes.

“Oh god!” Dean moans like a whore and _everyone_ stares at him again. Sam looks up and sees curious looks on people’s faces. Jenny is looking too and she looks like her panties are about as wet as Sam’s made sure Dean’s boxer briefs are. Oblivious, Dean moans loudly, fucking himself on Sam’s fingers and biting his lip as he closes his eyes and makes needy whimpers.

There isn’t any way for them to foreseeably convince people that Sam isn’t finger fucking the hell out of Dean’s ass so Sam goes with it. He stares people directly in the eyes and dares them to say anything because he’s having too much fun now.

“Come on, Sammy. Do _that_ again.” Dean licks his lips and gives Sam a dazed look.

Sam knows exactly what “ _that_ ” is and does a flawless job of hitting Dean’s prostate again.

Dean gasps and grabs the bar. He feels warmth coursing through him and sneaks a hand down to rub at his arousal. He’s leaking under his clothing, each movement of his hips smearing precome over his skin. He looks across the bar and wonders why everyone is looking at him with smirks or disbelief. He’s being damn quiet. Those whines and moans he is letting out are _definitely_ quiet enough to be heard by Sam’s ears only. Definitely.

What shocks Dean more than Sam’s fingers hitting his prostate again is when a petite blonde sits beside them and licks her lips. She’s tiny and there’s a rose tattoo picking out from the neck of her collared shirt. Dean’s brain struggles to make connections. “Oh!” he lets out when he realizes he is staring at Minnie.

The witch has no idea who she’s just sat down next to but she’s apparently amused. Crossing her arms over her chest, she runs her eyes over what she can see of Sam and Dean. “I’d offer a hand but it seems you’ve got that covered,” she says with a laugh.

For a second, Sam stills his hand and is about to pull out but a dejected sound from Dean’s throat stops him. Logic makes him realize how insane it seems to keep finger fucking Dean while trying to figure out how to deal with Minnie. Over confidence squashes that because he figures he’s multitasked over more difficult conquests and he sinks his fingers back in. “Quiet,” he whispers in Dean’s ear, lips ghosting over the shell of it.

“Mmm hmm,” Dean nods and opens himself fully to Sam.

Sam comes up with a plan. It’s spotty at best but he’s hoping Minnie sees them as nothing more than drunk, horny exhibitionists.

“We’d accept an offer of more than a hand, if you’re game,” Sam says while in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. He leans his chin on Dean’s shoulder and twists his fingers so that Dean lets out a very tempting groan.

Minnie thinks it over but the little lick of her lips and the way her fingers twitch against her thighs let Sam and Dean know it isn’t a hard decision for her to make. “You got’a place?”

“Yeah.” Dean babbles before his mouth opens in a silent O and nothing but air comes out when Sam scissors his fingers.

“Then let’s go, boys.” Minnie is off the bar stool in seconds flat. She saunters towards the door, giving Sam a cue to remove his hand and zip his brother back up. Jenny huffs in frustration from behind the bar as they do so.

They make it outside and Sam wants to make the next part quick because Dean wasn’t the only one painful hard after a thorough fingering.

Sam catches Minnie by the back of her slender neck and mumbles and incantation he’d long put to memory.

Minnie screams but she goes limp as Sam’s words have an effect. She passes out, all her weight completely held up by Sam.

There was power in Sam’s words and it’s clear they worked. Minnie will be fine in the morning. She’ll feel like she has the world’s worst hangover but she’ll be fine. She’ll be missing her powers, of course, but that’s kind of the whole point of Sam and Dean’s involvement with her.

Sam has the decency to settle her safely against the bar. It’s a nice place and Sam’s betting on someone figuring she got too drunk and figuring out a way to get home. If she’s a regular, people won’t ignore her.

Getting to his feet, Sam practically runs back to Dean. He grabs him in a kiss he’s been dying to give his brother since they started playing their little game in the bar. He kisses him long and hard, slotting his legs so his and Dean’s arousals press together. “God, Dean…do you know how hot you are? How hot it is that you can barely keep quiet when I’m playing with your hole.”

Dean brings his hands up to cup Sam’s face and pulls him away enough to nibble the man’s lip. “I was quiet.”

“Sure you were.” Sam growls possessively and nips at Dean’s lips. “You liked that, didn’t you? ‘Cause I loved it. I loved having everyone watch you fall apart and see that I’m the one who can do it to you.”

Dean shivers and wobbles on his feet. He’s drunk and everything feels _happy_. He’s so in love with Sam that it makes no sense and probably seems superficial but it’s not. It goes down deep and that’s exactly where Dean wants Sam to go right now. “Loved it, Sam. Loved your fingers in me. Need more though.”

“Me too.” Sam cups Dean’s ass and lifts – fucking lifts – Dean. His brother isn’t easily shoved around but Dean’s practically dying to attach himself to Sam. Dean’s arms find their way around Sam’s neck and he holds on, kissing his younger brother in rough, messy, desperate movements.

Sam is able to set Dean down on the ground long enough to yank open the rear door of the Impala. He practically throws Dean inside, sprawling him across the leather there. The rest of the night is rushed. With Dean’s jeans still mostly unfastened, he yanks them off, pulling the boxer briefs along with them. They get tangled around his ankles but they’re enough out of the way for Sam to do what he plans.

“Gonna fuck the shit out of you, Dean. And you don’t have to be quiet now. You can be as loud as you want. In fact, I kinda need to hear you. Love it.” Sam’s breathing picks up as he takes in Dean’s mostly nude form. His shirt is rucked up to expose his abs but what gets him really excited is the sheen of sticky wetness that’s the aftermath of Sam’s ministrations in the bar.

“Hurry the hell up. Been asking for it _forever_.” Dean scoots forward enough so that his legs hang off the bench seat. He groans as Sam strips out of his pants and fists his neglected dick. Sam’s length is blood filled and solid, almost a darker shade with need for release.

Officially out of patience, Sam hikes Dean’s legs up and open. It takes five seconds to line his dick up and Dean’s body practically coaxes him inside. “Shit!” Sam bites his bottom lip and pushes inside, taking a moment to savor the tight heat surrounding him.

Once the moment is over, he goes for it. He slams in, bottoms out, rolls his hips and then repeats it all again. Dean is moaning underneath him like a lunatic or he’s lost his mind.

“Oh, yeah, Sam! That’s what I wanted. Wanted you to,” his breath hitches and he stops talking. The groaning is better than anything he’d have to say. It’s sinful and Dean’s tone is so deep that it rumbles through Sam and he knows this isn’t going to last long.

They’ve had a marathon of foreplay, the actual thing has been teetering on orgasm for too long.

Sam grunts and fucks into Dean so hard that the man slides across the seat. He squeezes bruises into Dean’s legs and keeps fucking him. Every thrust is met with Dean begging for more until Sam can’t distinguish the difference between his own moans and Dean’s.

They’re both pretty far gone.

Sam’s riding an adrenaline rush from being able to solve their witch problem and getting his pie and eating it too. Dean’s riding a warm buzz and the orgasmic feeling of Sam’s dick stretching him wide and hitting him deep.

“Sam, gon-gonna come. Oh, fuck!” Dean grabs his dick and he only needs to stroke it a handful of times before he’s screaming, arching his hips off the Impala’s leather, and shooting a hot rope of come to land on his belly.

Sam’s eyes zero in on that and he lets out a satisfied sigh. He loves watching Dean come. Usually, he gets this proud floating feeling when he sees the faces Dean makes: eyes closed and mouth slack. Sometimes, like tonight, he can’t help but watch Dean’s dick because he loves seeing how much the man comes. Dean shouts again and another pulse of come makes a mess out of the two of them.

“You are nnghh!” Sam crashes their lips together and lets himself come. He rolls his hips, seats himself deeper and lets go. “I love your needy little ass.” Shoving forward, he shivers as his release washes over him. Hanging his head between his shoulders, Sam pants. He knows Dean isn’t _little_ and he’s usually not _needy_ but sometimes he is. Sometimes he’s begging for _everything_ and Sam likes those times. He gives his brother a hard time but he loves when Dean lets his guard down, drinks himself into a defenseless state and just _needs_ Sam.

Laughing, Dean’s words are staggered by heavy breathing. “It loves you too.” He feels a happy wave of pleasure washing over him and it’s a long time before Dean thinks straight enough to bitch about his baby getting come stains all over her. Then his brain reels back to where they are and why. “Minnie..we…what the…?”

“I took care of it Dean.” Sam kisses his jaw and smears his come stained hand on Dean’s jeans. When Dean bitches, Sam turns a questioning face towards him. “What? Would you rather I wipe it on the floorboards?” That shuts Dean up immediately.

The night was a huge success and is shaping up to end better than most of their hunts. Instead of scars and blood, they’ve got a mess of come and Dean will probably be feeling it tomorrow. But it will be the good type of hurt.

And if Dean bitches about it, Sam is armed with an arsenal of things Dean did tonight that will make the man want to hide under the Impala for weeks.


End file.
